Check out my first ever podcast segment linked here. 

I'm proud that its focus was on a topic that's near and dear to me.

Even though it's the weekend, I've been getting terrible sleep. Since Friday night, I've been falling asleep at a ridiculous late-night hour that feels more like my ideal time to wake up early and start my day on the right foot. I've also been having the weirdest dreams the past few days and opening my eyes to this heaviness and exhaustion.

After waking up today, I lied in bed for a bit not sure of what to do with my thoughts or my day. I used cleaning my room as a reason to get motivated and on my feet, and as I was Swiffering my floor with Natalie Merchant's Tigerlily album playing in the background, my phone rang—it was my good friend Annie calling. 

Annie and I have been close since high school and she's been living in Seattle for a while now. Honestly, at our age, with most people having life partners, kids, and generally, different interests, it's natural that all friendships evolve or fizzle out. And that's totally okay, because as we get busier with more responsibilities, that's just how life works. I could say that outside of my core group of friends, it's inevitable that I've become mutually untethered from most other people I used to know, and now keeping in contact through Instagram likes is more than sufficient. If there's nothing left connecting us or no longer any genuine effort put forth into friendship, people grow apart and move on and there's nothing wrong with that. But that's why I'm so thankful to the forever friends who do check in on me to make sure I'm doing alright. Annie has always been one of those friends, and is one of my dearest pals who genuinely knows me so well (and vice versa). Getting her call today couldn't have come at a better moment. We gabbed for about an hour-and-a-half and she helped me with a lot of the mental blockers and stuff I've been recently trying to process. By the time we hung up, I was feeling much better about everything.

Afterwards, I got some air from a walk and have been vegging at home doing absolutely nothing since.

Now, Sunday is nearing its end and it's time to mentally prepare for my upcoming workweek.

Text reading skills are knowing when a question is rhetorical.

Hey algorithm, so are you like single? I'd love to get to know you more.

Have you ever pressed fast forward on a three second video and then just realized some shit?

But the good news is that today was the first day in like a week or so where my Internet didn't have constant disruptions.

"I already know how to survive—so, why am I worried?"

Said by Vicky Vox in her podcast Doing Great With Vicky Vox. Episode 48.

My Internet has been spotty all damn day.

"I request the most benevolent outcome."

Said by Vicky Vox in her podcast Doing Great with Vicky Vox.

You know that meme about, according to Albert Einstein, the definition of insanity being doing the same shit and expecting different results? 

I just realized how this relates to online dating.

AOL Instant messenger.
Phone texts.
Grinder.
WhatsApp.
Group chat.
Slack.
Still no response back.

It's a nice, sunny Saturday afternoon here in my room. It feels like it's been pretty cloudy and grey out the past few days, so this burst of spring is much appreciated.

So, life rolls on. In the quarters that is my room, I work, eat, and sleep here. I spend way too much time of it lying on my stomach in bed with a device at my fingers and the TV on. But room life has been fine so far. I'm grateful to have some space to myself to process everything. Drawing my blackout curtains helps in feeling like I have my own little escape, and that even sometimes includes moments where things actually feel quiet. I mean it never gets completely silent, but with less people and traffic on the street, focusing on listening to one layer of noise coming through the windows does become easier.

But yes, another week with a stay-at-home order has passed. Businesses are still closed. People are sick in hospitals and dying. The virus is still spreading, and the CDC now recommends that everyone wears face coverings when they're out.

I definitely don't feel stuck in my room. I feel at home in my room. Thank you, room.

Self-care is not scrolling your life away at 1am.

"Didn't even notice, no punches left to roll with.
You got to keep me focused, you want it, say so."

From the song Say So by Doja Cat.

I seriously was looking for this song for so long. After hearing it in a million memes, I was like ooh that's catchy. But because I could never really make out the words, whenever I Googled "Gwen Stefani new song," I still could never find it. 

I mean, now I totally know it's not by her. But when the song surprisingly came out just now on my Spotify, I went to look at its name and thought, that's now how you spell Gwen Stefani.

"TAE, DO YOU WANT TO BE IN MY POETRY CLUB?"

An email with the subject line above was both my invitation and introduction to Thomas Miller's poetry club. 

It arrived in May of 2010, with the body of the email simply containing that week's poem, along with the name of its author and what years they lived. After giving it a read, I responded with an excited yes, saying I'd love to. But I wasn't sure what joining entailed, and if it took place at some sort of gathering or if I'd need to be buying books to prepare. So when I asked Thomas about how to join, my second installment of Thomas Miller's poetry club came with this email subject line: "You don't have to do anything...you just get a poem every week...like this one." 

And until this year, those poems have continued to come. 

I first met Thomas because he worked with my best friend Judy. Thomas and Judy weren't just coworkers who became close friends after years of working together, but they had a genuine friendship and connection. I mean, let's not even talk about them being birthday twins. But because he and Judy were close, I was able to get to know Thomas pretty well throughout the years. 

Thomas was genuinely one of the sweetest people I know. He was kind, and a definite one of a kind. He was loved for his big heart and also known for his unique style. And on top of all that, he was really interesting with tons of knowledge about art and whatever fine cultural events were happening in the city. On almost every day of the week, you could find Thomas out at an exhibit or sitting in the audience of some gorgeous production. Even the last time we hung out one-on-one was to watch ballet at Lincoln Center last year, which was my first time ever doing so. He loved anything that celebrated both the visual and performing arts and once told me he's "obsessed with looking at beautiful things." And this wasn't just for when he was outside his house.

Some years ago, a tough transitional phase of mine had me going through a long period of couch crashing. When Thomas heard about this through Judy, he generously offered to let me stay in his spare bedroom for a few months as I got back on my feet. Thomas had been living in his place since the 80s, so stepping inside his home was a deep immersion in who he was. Practically every inch and corner was decorated with some item. The spare bedroom I slept in was filled with things as well, from eccentricities I couldn't stop staring at to shelves of books and delicate figurines. And because there was no Internet connection in that room, a small analog tv near the bed was what I usually used to break the silence as I admired my surroundings. Being there in his home with all of the things he loved comforted me in a way. I was so used to living out of a suitcase with minimal belongings, and that's why Thomas' place was a great reminder in the serenity that can come from a home with stuff that brings you joy.

Sadly, Thomas passed away last weekend. His funeral was yesterday, and I was grateful to be able to go and say my goodbyes. You can read his obituary here, and also a recent article about him here. And as for Thomas' poetry club, while they became less frequent in the past few years, he had kept up sending out his poems since he first signed me up a decade ago. The final poem Thomas ever sent was on January 5th of this year.

While going through old photos to look for ones with Thomas, I found the following ones below I took at a work dinner of his, Judy's and their colleagues. This night is from exactly ten years ago in February of 2010.

Rest in peace, Thomas. You were a light to many.

Thomas Miller (1958-2020)

"There's a certain detachment that sensitive people must maintain to endure the harsh realities of this world."

Said by RuPaul in his audiobook Guru.

Having heart and giving a shit is so attractive.

And neither of these things can be learned through a swipe.

I love being so busy at work all day that I don't have time to peruse the Internet or scroll through my phone for anything.

This is living.

Work Hard, Scroll Hard.

I went to the post office to send my old college friend Magali something in Texas. Along with what I wanted to mail her, I had brought along some blank note cards with me so I could include a short message with her stuff. I was planning to buy an envelope for the packaging there at the post office and then quickly write her a message before getting in line to pay for everything. But then as I stood there at a side counter with a pen in hand (my own of course and not one of those chained down), and began to write "Dear Magali," I realized how novel it felt to have this contraption within my grips. It was like my hand didn't know what to do. I ripped up my first attempt because I hated how the handwriting of those two words came out, and then the same happened for the second attempt. My third attempt got me a little farther with a couple of more sentences, but I abruptly stopped soon after while thinking I just can't do this. I ended up sending her the stuff without a message or note at all, which felt weird but also okay for 2019.